In less than half a day, news spread throughout Panshi Village that Boss Zhu from Xilin Village had taken a liking to Shen Zhihuan, the third daughter of the Shen family—a frail, sickly girl.

As the subject of this unexpected gossip, Shen Zhihuan felt as though a herd of alpacas (a mammal with fine long woolly hair domesticated in Peru and related to the llama) had trampled through her mind.

She was someone who rarely left home, preferring to “cultivate immortality” in solitude. How had she become entangled in such a bizarre misunderstanding?

Was Boss Zhu sure he hadn’t mixed up his targets?

She searched her predecessor’s limited memories of interactions with the outside world but found nothing useful.

“Mother has already made it clear to Boss Zhu’s sister. I doubt they’ll come back again,” Li Qiuhua gently comforted, noticing Shen Zhihuan’s sullen expression.

“Let’s hope so,” Shen Zhihuan sighed.

Though she wasn’t particularly bothered by gossip, it was still an annoyance.

Li Qiuhua furrowed her brows thoughtfully. “You should avoid going out for a while. It’ll save you from hearing people’s idle chatter.”

“Alright,” Shen Zhihuan agreed.

Even without the warning, she had no plans to leave the house. Regardless of whether Boss Zhu had confused her with someone else, staying out of sight seemed like the safest bet.

After all, if he tried to pull any underhanded tricks, she wouldn’t stand a chance with her frail, wind-blown physique. It would be like leading a lamb to the slaughter.

For the next few days, Shen Zhihuan stayed indoors, shutting out the world entirely. Her daily routine consisted of yoga, fitness, and burying herself in writing at the dining table.

Meanwhile, Panshi Village entered its autumn harvest season.

Every year, to ensure the rice was harvested before the rainy season, the production teams cooked large communal meals directly in the fields. This way, everyone could eat their fill and immediately resume working.

The so-called “communal meals” were usually just a large pot of sweet potatoes with a few grains of rice mixed in.

Despite the simplicity, the abundance of sweet potatoes made the soup taste sweet. It was also unlimited in quantity, so villagers ate to their hearts’ content, as long as they could stomach it.

In those days, families typically rationed meals carefully. Households where people could eat until 70% full were considered well-off. Most were lucky to eat until they were half-full.

These communal meals during the wheat and rice harvests were the only times villagers could eat freely, making them an eagerly anticipated event.

With Li Qiuhua and Xiao Weidong eating in the fields, Shen Zhihuan didn’t even need to cook. After sleeping in, she would crack an egg, mix some batter, and make a few pancakes. That covered her meals for the day, saving her more time to focus on her writing.

She had to thank Wang Meili, a female educated youth, for mentioning on the ox cart that she loved reading magazines. If not for that casual comment, Shen Zhihuan wouldn’t have realized this avenue existed.

The cold pancake was dry, and Shen Zhihuan choked slightly as she ate. She quickly drank a gulp of milk, finally swallowing the bite stuck in her throat. Patting her chest, she composed herself.

After organizing her manuscript, she spent half the day meticulously checking for typos. Satisfied there were none, she retrieved some envelopes from the dressing table drawer and placed her articles in three separate envelopes.

The next morning, Shen Zhihuan packed a large bunch of plums and the three addressed envelopes before heading out.

By now, the golden fields had been replaced by neat stacks of hay bales. The air carried the faint scent of freshly harvested rice.

In the distance, she spotted Wang Chungen already preparing his ox cart. Quickening her pace, she called out.

Hearing the rare sound behind him, Wang Chungen turned, only to freeze momentarily when he saw her.

“Zhihuan, you…”

“What is it? Is there something on my face?” she asked, wiping her face instinctively, thinking she might have smudged it somewhere.

“No, no! I must have been mistaken,” Wang Chungen stammered, his gaze flickering as he awkwardly busied himself with the cart.

“Brother Chungen, are you going to town today?” Shen Zhihuan ignored his odd behavior and got straight to the point.

“Yes, in a bit. Why? Do you need a ride to the market?” He avoided her gaze, afraid his flushed face would betray him.

“No, I just need a favor.” She held up the letters.

“You want me to mail these for you?”

“Yes!” She nodded, then shoved the bag of plums into his hands.

“I can mail them, but you should keep these plums for yourself.”

“I picked a lot yesterday, and there are plenty left at home. These are for Auntie Wang and Chunxi to try,” she insisted, placing the bag firmly on the cart seat. She then handed him three coins along with the letters.

“Brother Chungen, I’ll leave these with you.”

“Are you… submitting an article?!” he asked, his eyes lighting up as he read the addresses on the envelopes.

“Yes! I heard Wang Meili mention that Yue Ren magazine is quite popular in Beijing. Since I have free time at home, I thought I’d try submitting some articles.” She smiled.

After bidding him farewell, she returned home, leaving Wang Chungen gazing after her until her figure disappeared behind the Shen family’s walls.

Meanwhile, in Xilin Village’s Zhu household, Boss Zhu carried a bag of milk powder, malted milk, and a package of egg cakes out of the house.

“Take these to your sister-in-law after breakfast,” he told his younger sister, placing the items on the cabinet.

“…Okay,” Zhu Xiaoxiu hesitated, her lips twitching but ultimately swallowing her words.

Their mother, old lady Zhu, sighed heavily and finally spoke up. “Dazhuang, maybe I should find a matchmaker for you…”

Forcing something that wasn’t meant to be wouldn’t work. If the girl and her family weren’t interested, they’d only waste their efforts. It might be better to find another match quickly so she could hold a grandchild sooner.

“Mother, don’t meddle in my business!” Boss Zhu frowned, displeased.

“I’m your mother! If I don’t care, who will?” she retorted, putting down her bowl with a sigh. “What about Yang Sanhong from the Yang family? She’s sturdy and good for childbearing. Our families are close, so we’d also be able to support each other.”

“Mother!” Boss Zhu’s voice deepened.

“I don’t want to hear about the Yang girl.”